I don’t know what has gotten into Kings,
They always seem to want the silliest things.
Let me narrate the story of one I knew,
Who tried to bite off more than he could chew.

Here is what he said to all he met,
His perfect girl, his brunette.
‘There is this girl I want to marry,’
‘A real princess is what she needs to be.’
‘Fair as a rose, with a tiny little nose,’
‘The beauty of a fairy, that’s who I’ll propose.’

You see now what I mean,
What this king wished to have for a Queen.
Brains did not matter in those days,
As long as a girl’s shapeliness continued to amaze.

Girls lined up morning,noon and night,
Some quite ugly, most not so bright.
The King had devised a test, you see,
Finding a real princess isn’t easy, you’d agree.

He had piled twenty mattresses on top of another,
Upon these he piled eiderdowns, that’d set your heart aflutter.
Under these, he placed a tiny little pea,
‘A real princess should feel that,’ said he.

A hundred girls gave the mattresses a try,
The pea remained hidden, the King gave up with a sigh.
‘These women are not princesses at all’
‘They wouldn’t notice if on a watermelon they sprawled.’
‘You could stick knives under those sheets,’
‘And the women would snore on, in their suite.’

The King was frustrated his brilliant plan foiled,
Upset, he paced about, his blood boiled.
The thundery night reflected the King’s mood,
The storm gave him another reason to brood.

Then suddenly, came a knock upon the door,
He opened it to find a girl standing in the pour.
She was shivering head to foot, her dark hair wet,
She asked for a place to sleep, a place to rest.

The king by now, didn’t really care,
Here was his maiden, oh so fair,
Weary, he pointed towards the room,
Where his plans of finding a real princess, had met their doom.

The girl saw the mattresses, climbed up the tower,
And promptly fell asleep, without a shower.

The next morning, she padded to breakfast,
None too worse, for her time in the tempest.
‘Did you sleep well, my dear?’
asked the King seeing her walking queer.

‘No,’ said the girl. ‘There was a stone in the bed,’
‘Oh, so many tears did I shed.’
‘It ploughed into my back, I am all black and blue,’
‘Looks like I shall need a doctor or two.’

The King was aghast, his mouth hung open.
This was the girl, the Gods had chosen.
None but a real princess would have felt,
The tiny little pea, he dwelt.

‘You shall be my Queen,’ the King declared.
‘Let the Wedding Feast be prepared.’
So they got married and lived a happy life,
The mighty King and his beautiful wife.

I wonder though, would they have wed,
If the Queen had had the brains to check under the bed?